


On Raven's Wings

by LeChatRouge673



Series: Thea's Song [43]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: F/F, F/M, Modern AU, Month Long Challenge, Multi, poly ship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:22:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 15,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26752789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeChatRouge673/pseuds/LeChatRouge673
Summary: A month-long writing challenge featuring Ravenna Hawke in the Where Lightning Strikes the Sea modern AU.
Relationships: Female Hawke/Isabela, Fenris/Female Hawke
Series: Thea's Song [43]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/890931
Comments: 76
Kudos: 5





	1. Shiny

The soft clink of glasses as they were lifted from the abandoned table seemed so much brighter in the dim silence of the bar. Ravenna balanced them on a tray, rolling her eyes at the barely touched electric blue cocktail she collected. The blonde girl with too much eyeshadow who had ordered it had barely been legal to drink, and it was obvious she had no clue what she was actually getting. Judgement over her drink choice aside, Ven was just grateful she’d had enough sense to set it aside rather than force it down and end up puking all over her floors.

Ven knew she ought not to be so judgemental. Andraste only knew she had made plenty of her own bad choice over the years, some far more recently than she would willingly admit to. Her mother had always been quick to remind her of that, she thought to herself bitterly. But they had always been _her_ choices and, right or wrong, she had owned them. Learned from them. That made it easier for her to firmly believed the most recent choice had been right. Painful, maybe. Bittersweet, certainly, but right. For once, she believed that.

She carried the tray into the kitchen and left it for the busboy, returning to the front and retrieving a soft cloth and dabbing it with a bit of polish before running it along the brass railing that lined the bar. Varric had put in more effort than he would ever admit to making The Hanged Man look spotless and well-kept while still maintaining the sort of well-loved patina that made it the sort of comfortable spot that welcomed patrons from all walks of life and made them feel like they belonged. Her friend had thrown her a lifeline, offering to make her a full partner in this particular business venture; given her a chance to at least try and put down some roots when they had gone into business together three years ago.

For all the good it had done her.

“You put much more shine on that railing, you’re gonna wear it right down to the wood.”

“Sorry, Varric,” Ven sighed. “Guess my mind is just elsewhere.”

He placed a friendly hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out, Blackbird. I know I was never real thrilled about the two of you, but still-”

“It was a mutual decision, Varric,” Ven cut him off. It was _mostly_ true, anyways. “I’ll be fine, and so will he.”

Varric peered at her for a moment, then simply nodded before grabbing another rag to begin wiping down tables. Ven knew that he was not-so-secretly relieved things had ended the way they did, and was trying to keep that relief from being too obvious. He had always been over-protective of her, but not in a suffocating way. If she were being honest, Ven would even say she appreciated his fatherly concern. Maker knows it had been years since she’d had anything like it.

They would be fine.


	2. Portrait

“You’re sure you won’t change your mind, Ven?”

Bethany’s voice startled Ven out of her thoughts. She’d been staring up at the family portrait that hung above the mantle in the study. It had been taken when Ven was eleven years old, and the twins would have been six. Their hair and clothing were flawless, of course: Mother would have never settled for anything less, even with money as tight as it had been at the time. Only her father looked to be genuinely smiling, the same friendly crinkle in the corners of his eyes and the slightly crooked tilt to his mouth. Leandra was putting on a good show for appearance’s sake, but Carver and Ven looked surly and Bethany looked anxious, just like she always did when her siblings were clearly spoiling for a fight.

It was such an interesting little microcosm of their family: a perfect representation of Malcolm’s persistently cheerful demeanor even in the face of hardship; Leandra’s desperate attempts to cling to her affluent past, or to at least put on a show to give that impression; Carver and Ven’s innate need to be contrary that was born of living under their mother’s expectations; and Bethany’s desire to be a peacekeeper.

Ven was not certain they could have ever been described as a ‘happy’ family, exactly, but even still… even still, there was a tinge of nostalgia attached to that portrait, taken in a cheap, department store photo studio. She could still smell the antiseptic floors and new clothes; could practically see the fluorescent lights beyond the flash of the camera. They had gone every year up until her mother had inherited the Amell estate and they had started commissioning a photographer who would make a house call to take more ‘appropriate’ family portraits. Ven found she missed the department store studio. Or perhaps it was more that she missed her father, and the new tradition was just one more way of sweeping away his existence.

“Yeah, Beth,” she sighed. “I’m sure. You were always more attached to this place than I was, and now that I’m on my own again I really just want to go back to my high-rise. I miss being in the heart of the city, and feeling that life around me. You’re better suited to country life than I am.”

“I’m going to rattle around like a marble in here by myself,” Bethany protested.

Ven just smiled to herself. “C’mon, Beth. You and I both know you won’t be alone forever, and of the two of us, you’re the only one likely to ever have a family. This house will be perfect for raising kids. I assume.”

Bethany rolled her eyes, but she wrapped an arm around her sister’s waist and rested her head against her shoulder.

“You know I’m going to be cursing you when I realize how much time this is going to add to my commute.”


	3. Above

It was good to be back. Ravenna had never really felt at home in the Hawke Estate. It had been a convenient place to land when she returned to Denerim after her time in the Free Marches, but it was never meant to be permanent. Then Bethany had begged her not to sell, and then Anders had moved in, and at some point it just became too much. Void, it had _always_ been too much: too many rooms and not nearly enough space, what with the antiques and heirlooms suffocating every room. Bethany had an emotional attachment to the old place and its furnishings, and Ven could understand it even as she did not share it.

She much preferred her sleek, modern apartment on the top floor of one of the tallest buildings in downtown Denerim, so far above the rest of the world. She loved looking at over the city, especially at night when the lights made everything sparkle and glow and pulse with a special kind of life. Thea and Cat preferred their country homes, and Ven knew Thea would rather leave the city altogether rather than give up her precious starlight. Still, she appreciated the younger woman and her husband agreeing to come over tonight.

It was odd: for all that she was still eagerly testing the limits of her new independence, Ven hadn’t wanted to spend her first night back alone, and that meant calling one of two people. It was convenient they were married to each other. Neither Thea nor Loghain would expect her to talk about it. Any of it. And they could both hold their liquor or whatever other vices Ven chose to indulge in that night, which was exactly what she needed right at the moment. She did not want sympathy, or thinly veiled curiosity, or even more poorly veiled concern. Ven simply wanted to relax and forget the world for awhile. So she’d called, and they had agreed to come over.

“I’ve got to say, Ven,” Thea observed as she took a long drag from the joint before passing it back to her, “This is a damned good view. Sometimes I forget how much I love this city at night. How small it can make everything else feel; how alive.”

“Yeah,” Ven agreed, inhaling deeply, letting the smoke sink into her body before handing it over to Loghain, who hesitated for only a moment before he shrugged and accepted it. Ven shot him a brief grin and he rolled his eyes, but he was not fooling anyone: Thea had told her stories, and Ven knew Loghain was not nearly as buttoned-up as he seemed.

Either way, this was good for her. Probably good for all of them. She almost never did this anymore, and she knew Thea and her husband did not either. But it was nice to just be mellow for awhile; to not have to think about the past or the future. Just the now.

“It really is.”


	4. Water

_Damn it. Fucking dehydrated_.

Ven rolled out of bed, still more or less tangled in the comforter. She shook it loose and trudged into the kitchen, not bothering to pull on pants or comb her hair. Why should she? She didn’t have to impress anyone anymore and maker only knew her houseguests were not going to care. Thea and Loghain were already awake; of course they were, and Maker bless Thea but she already had coffee brewing. Ven wasn’t sure if she’d ever seen the other woman hungover, from alcohol or otherwise. She was also not certain she even wanted to know what it would take to get her there.

“Here.” Thea pushed a glass over to her. “Drink that first, then you can have coffee.”

“Yes mother,” Ven quipped sarcastically, but she did as she was told, although she nearly choked on the first sip, choosing to ignore the small smile Loghain tried to hide behind his coffee mug. “Andraste’s ass, Thea, what is in this?”

Her cousin (well, second cousin, but who ever kept track of that?) gave a brief snort. “Trust me, it’ll help. Unless you _want_ to walk around with a splitting headache all day?”

“Not even a little,” Ven groaned, downing the rest of the concoction before accepting the coffee Thea handed over with a half smile that managed to be smug and sympathetic all at the same time. “How do you even know how to make this swill? You don’t get hangovers.”

Thea gave a quiet laugh. “You have never _seen_ me hungover,” she corrected. “Which, to be fair, has only happened exactly three times in my life. I was introduced to that little miracle,” she gestured to the glass Ven had emptied, “After number two. Absolutely brilliant herbalist by the name of Aden whipped it up for me. Grumpy man, so we got along fine.”

“You do seem to have a type, my heart,” Loghain noted, pressing a brief kiss to the top of his wife’s head.

Ven gave a halfhearted nod. The mixture was working surprisingly fast, but she still felt a little unstable, and she was reluctant to turn towards the sunlight coming in through her living room windows. “Fuck, what time _is_ it?”

“Not too late. A little after eight. You hungry?”

“Nope.” Ven shook her head. “You?”

“Nope,” Thea echoed back, but based on the look Loghain shot in her direction Ven knew she was probably lying; was not exactly certain when Thea had eaten last, but she also she seemed to be ok for the moment. It was going to be awkward for her, she knew: Anders was one of the few people who knew and really understood what Thea was fighting. Now that they’d split up…

“Actually, guys, I think I could really go for some biscuits and gravy from that little café down the street. Want to drag our sorry asses down there?”

Thea shrugged, but Loghain simply shot her a brief glance of appreciation.

“Hey. Your party.”


	5. White

Ven took another sip, wrinkling her nose ever so delicately, the gesture so subtle as to almost be unnoticeable. She was not much of a wine drinker, and considered white wine to be at the very bottom of a long list of things she would rather imbibe, but it wasn't her party. It was Bethany's 'housewarming' party, and since Ven was the one who had dumped the place on her she certainly wasn't going to quibble over the drinks.

Across the room, she caught the eye of Loghain Mac Tir, who looked to be about as enthused as she was regarding the beverage choices. He rolled his eyes in her general direction, and Ven gave a small chuckle. It must have been his turn to drive, otherwise he would have already hit the flask of whiskey she knew his wife would have been carrying. Ven liked Loghain: she never had to guess where she stood with him, and he and Thea were about as close to a relationship goal as she'd ever get. Ven sauntered over, abandoning her half full glass on a table along the way.

"Please, _please_ tell me Thea has something stronger on her," she muttered, prompting a short snort of amusement.

"Of course. I'm surprised you didn't bring anything yourself." Loghain caught his wife's attention and wordlessly invited her to join them.

"Didn't have time," Ven admitted. "I meant to swing by work before I came over but I was already running late. It was either booze or a shower, and I chose the latter, which you should all probably be grateful for."

He gave a brief snort of laughter, then studied her for a moment. "Still not sleeping well?"

Ven shrugged. "Still adjusting, I guess. Not the first time I've slept alone, and I'll find someone to bring home eventually. But it's different, you know?"

"I do," he agreed. "I never sleep well when Theadosia is out of town."

The woman in question finally reached them, having successfully navigated the sea of party guests and antique furniture. Thea slipped her a glass of something that was decidedly not wine, and Ven gave a small nod of appreciation.

"Knew you would have the good stuff."

Thea gave her usual half smile. “I always do,” she replied smoothly. “So, other than the less than ideal drink selection, are you enjoying the party?”

“I am,” Ven said. “It is good to have Beth taking over the place. She will be happier here; much more than I ever was.”

Thea nodded slowly. “I’m proud of you, Venna,” she said quietly. “It is good to see you living your life for you.”

Ven looked at her, trying to conceal the surprise she was certain had flitted over her face. “What do you mean? I’ve always gone my own way.”

“Yes,” Loghain agreed, “But how long have you carried the guilt your mother put on you? How long have you been living under that shadow?”

She considered for a moment. He was right; of course he was. Loghain knew more about guilt than most. She arched up onto her toes and pecked a kiss to his cheek.

“You two are impossible.”


	6. Mask

“Alright, almost done! Just hold still a teensy bit longer.”

If she could have done so without disturbing Merrill’s careful work, Ven would have rolled her eyes. As it stood, however, the homemade facial mask her friend had created from scratch was in the setting phase, which meant Ven needed to keep as still as she could manage. She was still a little annoyed she had agreed to be Merrill’s guinea pig in the first place, but she found it was difficult to say no to the enthusiastic and earnest young woman. Despite the vast difference in their personalities, Ven had almost adopted Merrill as a second younger sister and was fiercely protective of her. She knew Merrill understood better than most what it was like to be a disappointment to the people she loved.

Ven risked a tiny sniff. Whatever was in the paste Merrill had smeared all over her skin, at least it smelled nice. Earthy, almost like clean soil, but with bright notes of green and something vaguely floral, almost like the bouquets of wildflowers Cat always had in her house. It had been ages since she had taken the time to sit and actually let someone spoil her a little bit: letting go did not come naturally to her, and to say she had ‘trust issues’ was probably a massive understatement.

That said, even she had to admit it was not the worst idea in the world for her to sit and be still for a while. She had always been restless, even as a child. It had driven her mother mad, but her father had always laughed it off. Malcolm had believed she was going to do great things with all that energy. Some part of Ven was relieved he had not lived to see what she had become. This way she had only disappointed one parent.

And besides all that, it was good for her to spend time with Merrill. The younger woman had been through too much for her young age; a side effect, and a consequence, of her brilliance. She rarely spoke of the incident that had resulted in her banishment from her clan and their lands, and in fact made an effort to always look on the bright side of life and to help her friends do the same. She was a good balance to Ven and her natural cynicism and reserve.

“Aaaaaand… time!” Merrill announced cheerfully. “Let’s get you to the sink and cleaned up, and we’ll see how it worked. Thank you so much for helping me, Venna. Aveline always says she’s too busy and Isabela refused after… er… well, after the last incident.”

“ _What_ last incident?” Ven demanded as she began more rapidly removing the mud mask from her face.

“Oh, it wasn’t that serious,” Merrill insisted, shuffling slightly on her feet.

“Her skin was only blue for a few days.”


	7. Shadow

“So are we going to talk about it?”

“No. Or, at least, not if you do not want to,” Cat replied evenly, tying off the end of her long, ginger braid and tossing it over her shoulder. “Neither of you has tried to force me to make a choice, thank the Maker, so I will not be making one. I see no reason to.”

Ven sighed, picking absently at the peeling polish on her index fingernail. It was still remarkable to her how she felt so much guilt over the end of her relationship. Not for her own sake; she knew she had done what was best, but for her family and friends who had either grown close to him during their relationship, or who had known him before it. “It wasn’t his fault, you know. Not really.”

“I know,” Cat replied in her soft, gentle tone. “But it wasn’t yours, either. He could not ask more of you than you were willing to give, and you could not trap yourself in a situation that was ultimately going to make you unhappy. Here, this or this?” She held out two subtle, shimmery eye shadows, and Ven pointed to the gold with the slight undertone of lilac. Cat nodded, then began applying it as she continued speaking.

“Neither of you were happy, Ven. The signs were there for those of us who knew what to look for. Anders wants to find someone to settle down with; to have a family with. That has always been his dream. Never yours. You should not have to settle for it, and you sure as the Void do not have to apologize for it. You did the right thing, ending things before they went too far and you both ended up trapped and miserable. I know you know what that looks like, and I know you did not want that life for yourself.”

Ven sat back up and looked at her cousin, who was now facing her with the same quiet patience she always seemed to carry. “I’m sorry you ended up in the middle, Catkin,” she said quietly, still a little surprised at how true that statement was. “I will always care about him, you know? In my own way. He’ll bounce back; find someone better suited to him than I ever was.”

Cat gave a brief snort. “I am hardly in the middle, Ven. He’s my friend, and you’re my family. It is going to be…awkward, for a bit, but we’ll manage. We always do. Now, come on.” She stood and pressed a brief kiss to Ven’s forehead.

“Thea will be less than pleased if we’re late to the show.”


	8. Monochrome

Ven meandered around the gallery, taking the time to really look at each photograph and appreciate the skill and time that had gone into every image. They were good; _really_ good. They were mostly nature shots, though there were a few cityscapes thrown in to add some contrast. Each one was shot in black and white and set in tasteful silver frames, lending a degree of quiet sophistication to the exhibit. She approached the photographer at the other end of the gallery where he stood apart from the guests, nursing a drink in one hand and, if she had to guess, doing his best not to look nervous.

“These are amazing,” she informed him with a small, reassuring smile. “Cat didn’t even mention you had been working on something like this.”

“Yes, well, we were waiting to see if I actually had the nerve to go through with it,” Nathaniel admitted, offering her a small smile of his own. “I’ve been doing more assignments for Dorian in addition to the writing and editing and, well, everything else I do at work, so I was able to get some good shots that I would not have pursued otherwise, and the timing seemed right. It was just a hobby for years before I had to become my own photographer for _Travels_.”

Ven nodded thoughtfully, her attention drawn to a particularly striking piece set apart from the others in its own space. “You will have to show me how you got the exposure right on that sunrise skyline. I would have thought the photo would lose something without the color, but somehow it still feels so alive.”

“You like it?” Nathaniel asked, a brow raised in question.

“I do,” Ven nodded. She had always had a taste for subtlety and sleekness, and this particularly drew her eye. “I think it is my favorite.”

“Then it’s yours,” he informed her, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a sheet of ‘sold’ stickers before affixing one to the frame of the piece in question. “You need more art in your apartment anyways. I appreciate a modern aesthetic as much as the next person, but you are bordering on ‘stark.’”

Ven laughed, leaning up to press a brief kiss to Nathaniel’s cheek. “And that _would_ go with the color scheme… Thank you, Nate. I love it. But I am still going to shamelessly pester you for more info about your technique.”

He chuckled quietly, raising his glass in a mock toast.

“Deal.”


	9. Cozy

“Is this one of Nathaniel’s?” Bethany gestured to the newest piece of artwork on Ravenna’s living room wall. Actually, it was the _only_ piece currently on the wall. She still hadn’t really done much to re-decorate her apartment since she had moved back in; hadn’t really thought about it, if she were being honest. It was simply yet another box to check on her constantly fluctuating to-do list.

“It is,” she confirmed, coming to stand beside her sister as they studied the black and white photo from the art exhibition. “I told him how much I loved it at the gallery and he gave it to me. I need to talk to him, actually, see if I can’t convince him to actually sell me a few more.”

Bethany gave a small snort of skepticism. “Yeah, good luck with that. You know he and Cat will never let you pay for any of them.”

Ven laughed. “No, I suppose not.” She handed over the hot cocoa she’d made for her sister before taking a sip of her own, stronger, drink. They settled in on the sofa, Bethany’s legs stretched out over her lap and a baking show with the volume turned low playing on the television. It had been a long while since they’d just hung out together, but they had both had a rare night off on the same day and had decided it was past time.

“Do you know if Merrill has made any more of those embrium bath salts she was experimenting with?” Bethany asked, shifting her position slightly with a wince. “My back is killing me from analyzing all the samples that just came in, and those were just _wonderful_ in a hot bath. That woman ought to be making a career selling her herbal concoctions.”

“Assuming there is a rigorous quality control process,” Ven deadpanned before continuing. “I’ll ask her tomorrow,” she promised, tweaking Beth’s big toe and prompting a giggle. “I know she’s been doing that on the side to de-stress from her thesis. Maker knows the woman needs it: classical elven archaeology is no picnic.”

Bethany nodded in understanding. “True. Merrill is crazy brilliant, though. Ambitious, too, though you would never guess it based on how sweet-natured she is. If anyone can make it through that program, it’s her.” She reached up and retrieved a throw blanket from the back of the couch and tossed it over her lap. “Ven?”

“Yeah, Beth?”

“I’m glad we did this,” she said, her hand covering a yawn as she nestled her head down against the arm of the sofa. “Sometimes it is nice to just have a cozy night in, away from the rest of the craziness.”

Ven smiled at her little sister.

“Yeah. It really is.”


	10. Flower

It had been months since Ven had been out to a club like this. It was her own fault; she had always claimed to be too busy, but she knew damn well it was more a matter of her simply not wanting to risk doing something she would have to explain later. Anders would have understood; would have forgiven her just about anything, but that was part of the problem, wasn’t it? He had adored her, and she’d cared about him too. She would even say she loved him, in her own way, but he had always harbored the hope that someday she would settle down; that she would be his and his alone for the rest of their lives. And she just couldn’t give him that life.

Now, she answered to no one but herself. And if she wanted to act irresponsible and stay out too late drinking and people watching, she did not have to bear the knowledge that someone was at home waiting for her, worrying over her. There was always Cat and Thea, but they both seemed to understand Ven’s need for freedom. Thea, in particular, had always been sympathetic. She had a wild streak that surprised even Ven sometimes, if even half of what she had heard about Thea and her husband was true.

Then again, she was hardly one to talk.

“It’s been too long, Venna,” Isabela purred in her ear, the warmth of her hand drifting further up the front of Ven’s floral blouse, coming to rest over her stomach as she nipped lightly at her neck. They were tucked away in a back booth and were already several drinks in, and Bela’s hands had been busy reminding Ven of everything she’d been missing the past few years. “You’re making it real difficult to be too upset over your breakup.”

Ven arched her back just slightly as Isabela’s fingers danced ever so briefly below the waist of her jeans. Bela was painfully correct: it had been far too long since Ven had felt like this; felt this excitement and rush through her entire body. “It was a mutual decision, Bela,” she replied, just slightly breathlessly. “You and I both know I was never going to be what he needed.”

“And you and I both know he was never going to be what _you_ needed either, sweet thing,” Isabela retorted, her mouth moving to cover Ven’s and ending any potential argument. Ven let herself relax into the kiss, her tongue tangling too easily with Bela’s and her body reacting far too quickly to the other woman’s touch. When they parted, she was breathless and heated and so damn ready.

“How long are you in town?”


	11. Texture

Ravenna woke up in a vaguely familiar bed in completely unfamiliar sheets. They were softer than what she was used to; just the right side of _too_ indulgent. Aggressively cheerful sunlight was pouring in through the window, curtains already thrown wide to greet the day.

She hated it.

Ven reached a hand up to slowly rub her forehead. She wasn’t _quite_ hungover… ok, she was, but only slightly. A few cups of coffee and some painkillers would set her right. Thank the Maker she didn’t have to work until that afternoon. She had a feeling she was already going to have a lot of explaining to do when Varric found out where she’d spent the night. He was one of her best friends and she adored the dwarf, but he had an overprotective streak when it came to her love life. It could be trying, at times, but Ven was also secretly touched that someone cared enough about her to _be_ overprotective. And at least he was not the blatant snob her mother had been.

Isabela was still fast asleep, the sunlight hitting the dark curves of her body and making them glow. That was not, however, the person who currently had their arm wrapped around Ven’s waist. She ran her fingers lightly over the silvery lines of ink that ran along Fenris’ skin, tracing the patterns on the arm he had draped over her and not even bothering to try and repress the pleasant shiver that ran through her body as his lips went to the back of her neck.

“Good morning, Ravenna.”

“Morning, Fenris,” she yawned, pressing her back closer to his chest, and his arm tightened slightly around her. “Can I assume we have Zev to thank for the obscene amount of daylight currently assaulting my eyes?”

“He is usually the first one up,” Fenris acknowledged, pressing a kiss to her mouth, his lips lingering just slightly. “I can get up and close them, if you like.”

Ven shook her head. “No. I’m awake now anyways. How is he a morning person?” She grumbled, burying her face against her pillow. “Or was he simply still awake from the night before?”

She felt Fenris shrug slightly, his head coming to rest against the raven-black waves of her hair. “Not the slightest idea, Ravenna. He seems to be able to sleep just about anywhere, so perhaps he simply catches sleep as he can. It would drive me mad, personally, but Zevran has always been… interesting.”

Ven laughed softly against the pillow, her mind slowly dragging itself from the fade back to the brightness of the waking world. Blazing sunlight aside, there were certainly worse ways to wake up than naked between Bela and Fenris. Much worse ways, in fact. She hesitated, then asked, “How crazy did things get last night, exactly?”

To her surprise, Fenris gave a brief snort of amusement. “They didn’t. You and Bela stumbled in around 3:00 a.m. and more or less got your clothes off before you fell into bed and crashed hard.”

Ven sighed.

“Damn. I am out of practice.”


	12. Messy

“ _Why_ do we host these events?” Ven grumbled under her breath, picking up a half-eaten cheeseburger, tossing it in the trash bag she was toting around, and then picking up Sera off the floor and depositing her on the couch facing the stage, not even trying to decipher the mumbled protestations Sera made as she did so.

Varric just chuckled, knowing full well Ven’s exasperation was mostly toothless. “Because it’s good publicity for the bar. Because it benefits the community. Because you secretly love watching everyone get shit-faced drunk and losing their inhibitions for awhile.”

Ven rolled her eyes, but she knew he was right. “Speaking of, did Thea and Loghain ever actually make it back _out_ of her dressing room?”

“Yeah, Arrows drove them home,” he confirmed, his grin widening slightly. “He was designated tonight and you know he wouldn’t leave without making sure all four of them got home safely.” Varric nodded his head thoughtfully, wiping down the tables with a rag as Ven cleared them off. “Overall, it was a good night. We raised a lot of money for the community arts program. Sera is doing good work with those kids, and it keeps them, and her, out of trouble.”

Despite herself, Ven smiled. Truth be told, she was happy to host events like this, mess notwithstanding. Sera was channeling a lot of her excess energy into doing something positive for the community, and particularly for kids who, for various reasons, needed extra guidance, support, and an outlet for their own emotions and creativity. It was the kind of place Ven wished she had been able to go to as a kid, even with her utter lack of artistic ability. “Yes, well… I’d be happier if she could keep her boot prints off my clean chairs.”

“Hey, those chairs gonna be a… a collector… collector’s item someday.” Sera’s muffled voice came from the sofa, and Varric just laughed.

“You hear that, Ven? Collector’s items. We can’t pass that opportunity up.” She stared at him flatly, and he held up his hands in a gesture of mock surrender. “Don’t worry, Dagna’s on her way to pick her up,” he assured Ven. “What about you? You got a ride home, or do you want me to drop you off? No way you’re walking all the way back to your place this late.”

Ven shook her head, but she was secretly touched her best friend cared enough to worry, even though they both knew she could handle herself. Was, in fact, probably more frightening than anything she was going to run into out of the streets of Denerim. “That’s ok, Varric. I’ve got a ride coming.”

“Oh really?” He raised his eyebrows in her direction and she could practically see his fingers twitching for a pen and paper to document the latest update in her love life. Ven gave him a small smile.

“I’ll tell you about it later.”


	13. Fork

“You know there is absolutely no rhyme or reason to this set up, right?”

Bela just laughed from the sofa where she was sprawled, looking entirely too comfortable with a whiskey in her hand that glittered the same color as the eyes that were currently running unapologetically along Ven’s body. “You’ve gotten complacent, Venna. Last I remember you did not give a damn where the forks and spoons went so long as they got clean.”

Ven shook her head in mock exasperation, then finished loading the dishwasher and set it running. She had offered to cook tonight, something she almost never did if she could avoid it. It had… turned out. At least it wasn’t burnt, and with enough alcohol it really did not much matter in the end. Besides, dinner was not what either of them was there for, and they both knew it. She wiped her hands on a dishtowel before joining Isabela on the couch, straddling the other woman’s hips and settling on her lap. She carded her hands through Bela’s rich, black waves of hair as she leaned forward and claimed her mouth with her own.

“Mmm,” Isabella hummed against her lips. “Good to know you still remember to have fun, even if I am just a rebound.”

Ven leaned back and gave her a playful smack on the shoulder. “I never forgot, Bela. Just… I was in a different place, for awhile. I enjoyed it while it lasted, and when I stopped enjoying it, I left.” It was mostly the truth, anyways. Really, she should have left _before_ she had, back when she first began to realize things were just… not working, between her and Anders. That they were never going to be right for each other, not forever.

“Oh I’m not complaining, sweets,” Isabela laughed, breaking Ven from her musings as she slipped her hands beneath Ven’s shirt and pulled it up over her head, sending Ven’s own raven hued locks tumbling out of the messy knot she’d had it in all day. One hand twined around Ven’s waist as the other slipped beneath her bra. “Although I feel it only fair to warn you I’m not the only one interested.”

“I figured,” Ven sighed, arching her neck back while Isabela leaned forward and began trailing her lips and tongue over her collarbone and the tops of her breasts. “You could have brought him along, you know. I certainly would not have minded.” That was a bit of an understatement, but Ven was not willing to admit that quite yet.

Isabela shrugged. “I offered. He said he had some things to take care of. He has certainly been quite the busy bee since we got back into town, though he’s been very secretive about it all. And Zev was out on a job tonight, something for Cat, I think. You know he won’t say no to her.” She paused, leaning back to study Ven. “You disappointed?”

Ven laughed off her concern.

“How can I be? I’ve got the self-proclaimed queen of the Rivaini seas anchored firmly between my legs, and I am ready to be boarded.”

Isabela gave her a wicked grin.

“That’s my girl.”


	14. Fruit

“You aren’t even a little bit curious?”

Thea sighed, briefly chasing a blueberry around her breakfast plate before finally putting it out of its misery and stabbing it with her fork and popping it into her mouth. “Of course I am, Catkin, but you know Ven: she’s not going to tell us anything until she is good and ready to, and maybe not even then. She’s an even more fiercely private person than I am which, if I may be so bold, is saying something.” She studied her cousin for a moment. “Why exactly are you so interested, anyways? You’ve never been one to be much bothered by what went on in anyone else’s bedroom.”

A faint blush rose in Cataline’s cheeks. “It’s not the sex that worries me, Thea. I trust Ven to be smart and safe about whatever, or whoever, she is doing. I worry about her… I guess I worry about her emotional well-being. That woman is even worse than you are about processing feelings, and she was with Anders for quite a while. Longer than anyone else I can think of.”

“Oh, Cat.” Thea leaned over and pressed an affectionate kiss to the other woman’s cheek. “You think she’s rebounding too quickly?”

“It isn’t just that,” Cat admitted, “Though that is part of it. The arrangement that Zev and Bela and Fenris have… it works for them because they’ve always been very clear about where they stand with each other, what their ‘rules’ are, what to do if their dynamics change… but Ven has not been a part of that. I just worry she is going to end up hurt.”

Thea leaned back and took a long sip of her coffee, considering her response. “I see what you mean,” she finally agreed. “I was operating under the assumption that, for now at least, it’s just casual. I don’t blame her at all for wanting to have some fun, but… damn it.” She rolled her eyes.

“Admit it, Thea,” Cat spoke up quietly. “You worry, too, despite your attempts to convince the rest of us otherwise. And you and Ven have always been more alike than she and I are. She will talk to you.”

“Maybe,” Thea snorted, “Or she may simply clam up and refuse to tell me a damn thing. You do realize that is the more likely scenario? Again: fiercely private. May not take well to someone poking around in her business, even someone like me.”

Cat simply shrugged and gave her a deceptively sweet smile. “Perhaps. But you have always prided yourself on your ability to get to the bottom of particularly vexing puzzles. Surely this one should be a cinch for someone like you.”

Thea stared at her flatly, but she knew the battle was lost. More to the point, she knew Cat was right: she _was_ curious about what was going on with Ven and the others. She held up her hands in a gesture of surrender.

“I’ll see what I can find out.”


	15. Selfie

A shrill chorus of shrieks coming from one of the corner booths nearly made Ven drop the martini glass she was rinsing. A bachelorette party, if she had to guess: they’d been buying overly complicated drinks and jello shots all evening for the woman she assumed was the bride-to-be, and were finally getting to the point of being a _little_ too drunk to consistently moderate their volume.

It probably should have annoyed Ven. Void, a few years ago it probably would have, but she’d been working at the bar too long and had seen too much to really be bothered by a bunch of twenty-somethings taking selfies and getting blitzed on cosmos. Life was short, and they were young, so why shouldn’t they enjoy themselves while they could? It was better than the heartache that occasionally walked through the doors of The Hanged Man. She always let Varric handle those cases; she wasn’t so great with crying.

But these girls seemed to just be having a good time, so instead of shooting them a dirty look Ven simply pulled out the list of taxi and ride share services she kept on call. She didn’t mind them having fun, but she sure as fuck wasn’t letting any of them drive, either.

And maybe, deep down, she was just a tiny bit envious of the fun they were having. Not that she had ever lacked for irresponsible, drunken nights of debauchery, void, she still didn’t, but this was different. There was an air of easy, youthful camaraderie and a glee that came from a future bright with possibility paired with a steadfast lack of consideration for the following morning.

_That_ was what she had never had. That utter freedom from concern. She’d had to grow up too fast; she knew that now. Her mother had been more concerned with scrabbling to regain the family’s status and position rather than do much parenting, and her dad had worked hard his entire too-short life to make sure they always had enough. Other then Cat and Thea, Ven had not really made any real friends of her own until she had left the family home and struck out on her own, falling in with the merry band of misfits that had all found themselves in Kirkwall at roughly the same time.

So maybe she had missed out on a wild, carefree youth. And maybe it had made her just a little too cynical as an adult. But hey, at least this way she appreciated every damn thing she worked for, and every person that proved themselves worth of being in her life. She had found ways to make her own happiness, even in the small in-between moments.

“You’re looking particularly pensive tonight, Ravenna.”

She didn’t even turn around as she reached up and retrieved a bottle of very good, very old Tevinter wine. She poured a glass and slid it down the bar, where Fenris caught it easily. “Just contemplating life’s little joys, I guess,” she finally replied, leaning up against the bar across from him. “What brings you out tonight? I almost never see you here, even when you are in town.”

He shrugged, then raised his glass in a small toast.

“Just contemplating life’s joys.”


	16. Blue

_Deeper._

Ravenna could feel the strain beginning to burn in her lungs, but she kicked her legs and pushed herself deeper into the water until her finger tips just barely brushed against the azure mosaic waves at the bottom of the pool. Once she had, she tumbled upright and allowed her body to float back up to the surface. Shaking the water from her eyes, she swam lazily to the edge and pulled herself out, leaning back and taking deep, slow breaths of cool night air.

Swimming was her meditation. Ven had never been one to sit still for very long if she could help it, but being in the water, cut off from the rest of the world and its distractions, was a good opportunity for her to center herself. Diving deep into the deepest depths she could, pushing her body to the limit before finally returning to the vivid lines and lights of the surface. The water asked nothing of her save for her wary respect, and in return it gave her a sense of perspective and balance in her life and in her world. She needed that indifference.

“You’re out of practice.”

“Badly,” she agreed, but she still flicked a few drops of water towards where Fenris was sprawled on of the deck chairs. It was nice being back in the city; back in her high-rise apartment. No one used the pool this late at night, so she usually had the space to herself, which was useful on several counts. For one thing, no one could see how badly winded she was at the moment after a dive she was once able to do with minimal effort.

“It was too much of a hassle to drive into town to use the pool at the gym on a regular basis,” she explained with a shrug, “Especially since it is apparently ‘frowned upon’ to use the soaking pools without a suit on.” As if to prove her point, she shed the black swimsuit she had been wearing and dropped it neatly by the chair as she walked past him.

Fenris shrugged, but he didn’t try to hide the gaze he ran up and down her body as she stepped into the soothing warmth of the water, which Ven appreciated. He liked her, he liked the way she looked, and neither of them had to play any games about it. Or at least, none that they didn’t both enjoy. And he never expected her to be anything other than what she was, a quality she did not realize how much she valued until recently. Fenris would never expect her to ‘settle down’ or fit into any of the molds her mother or ex had hoped she would someday find comfortable. He did not care that she worked late or unpredictable hours, or that she sometimes stayed up too late drinking with Bela, or playing video games with Thea.

No, Fenris saw her exactly the way she was, and he liked what he saw. Ven looked up at gun, teal eyes glinting in the moonlight beneath long, dark lashes.

“So. You getting in, or not?”


	17. Luck

“Oh son of a _bitch_.”

Ven bit back a smile as Thea tossed her controller onto the couch and sat back with a huff of, admittedly deserved, frustration. Loghain raised an eyebrow briefly in their direction before returning his attention to the antique map he was restoring with a small smile. He was used to his wife’s more enthusiastic outbursts when she was gaming, particularly since he was her normal partner when she played co-op. Still, Ven made a point of coming over at least one night a week to hang out with Thea and Loghain. It was good for her to maintain at least some ties; some relationships that kept her grounded even if her heart would always be that of a wanderer.

“They’re fucking camping,” Thea grumbled, arms crossed over her chest and an impressive scowl furrowing her brow and a mutinous spark in her storm blue eyes. “Every. Single. Time I respawn someone is there to snipe me. That’s cheating.”

“It’s shitty, in any case,” Ven agreed, biting back a smile of her own and waiting for her cousin to pick up her erstwhile controller before she revived her sprite. Technically the tactic, if it could be called that, was not exactly cheating, but most seasoned players were sporting enough not to engage in it. “Maybe we need to try a different strategy. When you spawn, fall back instead of trying to press forward, and I’ll loop around the other side and try to hit them from that angle. If nothing else, it may drive them over towards you and you can get them then.”

“Agreed.” Thea sighed. “I swear, I am usually better at this. I’m just having no luck tonight. On top of which, I hate this map. Great sight lines, but almost zero cover. Should be a sniper’s dream, but not if I can’t line up my damn shots.”

“Eh, it happens,” Ven reassured her with a shrug. “You realize the other team is probably made up of a bunch of teenage boys from the Hinterlands with nothing better to do than hone their skills at this game. Honestly, if friendly fire were enabled they would probably be wasting all their time picking off each other just for the laughs.”

“She has a point, Theadosia,” Loghain spoke up, still not looking away from his work. “You have a good mind for the game. You just also have an active and varied sex life.”

Ven did laugh then, as did Thea, and even Loghain cracked a small smile. He stood up and headed towards the kitchen. “I’m going to grab a beer. You two want anything?”

“Love one,” Ven replied, sprawling back on the couch as she began manipulating her player through the eerie white planes of the map set in the fictional violet and blue skies of some unknown space void. “Better bring one for your wife, too, before she throws her controller through the TV.”

And she managed to dodge the throw pillow Thea aimed at her head.


	18. Hands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Blood

_ Oh maker, why is there so much blood? _

_ She scrubbed at her hands, desperate to remove the ochre stains from her skin, but even as the water ran in streams of crimson, still there was blood on her hands. Her blood? No… no, it was Carver’s blood. Somewhere in the background, her mother’s voice was a chorus of shrill demands and admonitions. Why didn’t you save him? Where were you? You were his sister; you were supposed to protect him. How could you fail in this one single task? How could you let him fall? _

_ I tried, mom. Maker knows I fucking tried. But he never wanted to be coddled anymore than I wanted a cage. We just wanted a chance to make our own way in the world; to be the people we wanted to be, rather than the people you expected us to be. That you demanded we become.  _

_ Some part of her knew she had not even been there the day her brother was killed; had not even been in the same country. Where had she been that day? She must have still been in the Marches, running with her ragtag crew and being the irresponsible disappointment her mother always claimed she was. Yet somehow, she was there now. _

_ Ven tried to wash the blood away, her tears mingling with her brother’s life as it faded down the drain… _

“Ven, wake up. Venna, you _have_ to wake up.”

She sat up with a jolt, still wringing her hands as her eyes shot open. Ven took a few gasping gulps of air, her heart still racing and phantom tears drying on her cheeks. No one tried to touch her; not yet. They knew her better than that. Physical contact immediately after one of her nightmares was a good way to end up in the ER. Which was the _last_ place she wanted to be right now.

“Come on, Ven.” Isabela coaxed her with surprising gentleness, leading her into the living room and setting her on the sofa before moving into the kitchen. “I am going to make you some of the sleep tea that Cat and Thea use. Cat sent some over a few weeks ago after I was complaining about insomnia.”

Zevran shuffled out of the bedroom after them, stifling a yawn as he settled beside Ven and wrapped a blanket around her, letting his arm linger there. She took another long, deep breath, then rested her head against his bare shoulder. He pressed a kiss to her hair, stroking her arm gently. “That must have been a particularly ugly dream, Ven.”

She nodded mutely. She didn’t want to talk about it, and she knew they wouldn’t try to make her. Bela handed her the tea before curling up on her other side, snuggling close. Ven sipped it slowly, letting the scalding herbs chase the false memories from her mind.

“Why don’t we stay up with you until Fenris gets back?” Zevran offered. “Then we can all try and go back to sleep.”

Ven managed another weak nod and a whisper.

“Thank you.”


	19. Melancholy

Ven didn’t like cemeteries. It was not the dead that bothered her so much: they had no expectations for her, and made no demands of her. The dead would not judge her if her emotions and reactions did not perform to their specifications, and they did not care much one way or another if she came to visit. They were good hosts, the dead. They did not give one single damn about whether or not Ven met the ‘appearances’ of proper mourning.

Which was why she had not been back since the funeral. Because at the end of the day, the residents of the Denerim Cemetery did not hurt for her absence, nor for anything else for that matter.

Carver was dead. No amount of mourning or tears or grief would bring him back, and performing the actions with no real emotion behind them just seemed insulting. And whatever had remained of his spirit or soul was not in the gleaming wooden casket they had lowered into the ground, draped with the flag of Ferelden and overseen by an honor guard of Denerim PD’s finest. No, that macabre cradle held nothing but bones by now. Bones, and perhaps the plain, unmarked silver band her brother had worn on his right hand. The only memento he had kept of their father.

Malcolm had done it right, as far as Ven was concerned. No amount of nagging or wheedling on her mother’s part had been able to convince him to have his earthly remains locked away in some imposing mausoleum. Leandra Hawke had been interred in the Amell Family Crypt in Kirkwall just as she had outlined in the extensive instructions she had left behind, but Malcolm had wanted to be cremated in the Fereldan tradition, with his ashes scattered in the places he loved best. Fortunately, even after her father had been in no position to argue, Ravenna and her siblings had convinced their mother to honor his wishes.

Her brother had wanted that, too. The two of them had drifted apart in the years before his death, with her never really settling down anywhere for long and him pursuing a promising career path with the DPD. He had found purpose in his life, and part of Ven envied that. Even more, she regretted losing the bond they had once had: the rebellious Hawke siblings, always either at each other’s throats or steadfastly united against the world around them. She had missed that bond even more after his death, since it meant it was only sweet-natured Bethany against their mother when it came to arranging Carver’s funeral.

She sat down by the simple, stoic bronze plaque set in the grass. The summer sun blazed overhead, but she wouldn’t stay long. Her nightmare the previous night had bothered her more than she cared to admit, and she felt she owed her brother’s memory at least this much. Ven pulled a bottle of his favorite whiskey out of her bag, uncorked it, and took a long drag straight from the bottle before pouring a generous measure into the earth around the headstone.

“Cheers, Carver.”


	20. Season

“I told Catkin I would talk to you.”

Ven’s brow furrowed slightly as she watched Thea add a little more of some spice or another into the béchamel she was working on. The woman seemed to have a gift for cooking that Ven envied more than a little, but not enough that she ever made any real effort to learn herself. Honestly, she almost suspected Thea needed people to cook for: it was her own way of expressing love when her words failed her. Thea often cooked for Ven, so tonight’s invitation to dinner hadn’t raised any particular alarms. Perhaps it should have.

“About what, exactly?”

“Your love life, mostly,” Thea shrugged, tossing some sort of cheese into the sauce.

Ven relaxed back into the kitchen chair and laughed. “Since when is Cat so interested in who I’m fucking? Or is this because she’s still friends with Anders.”

“I didn’t say your _sex_ life, Ven darling,” Thea retorted dryly. “And I have no idea when the last time she and Anders chatted was, so can’t help you there.” She reached into the fridge and grabbed a beer before passing one to Ven. “Ven, we don’t judge: you know that. Void, you were way more accepting of my life choices than near anyone else, so even if I were less open-minded I’d like to think I’d still support you. I think Cat is just worried that you’re not processing your break-up, and she’s concerned about what will happen when those three eventually, inevitably, leave town again.”

“You are both very sweet.” Ven offered a small smile when Thea turned from the stove to shoot a glare in her direction. “Yes, Teddy Girl, even you. And I appreciate the concern, truly I do. I appreciate even more that you both seem to be willing to take a hands-off approach, which is more than I can say for most people. More to the point, I know the concern is coming from a place of love, even though you might try to deny it.” 

Thea rolled her eyes, but Ven just laughed before continuing. “For now,” she paused to take a drink while she considered her words, “For now I’m just enjoying being single again. And yeah, the sex is mind blowing and definitely something I’ll miss when they take off, but this is a good chance for me to reacquaint myself with _me_. It has been a void of a long time, Thea.”

“And you’re happy?”

Ven stood up and came to stand beside Thea, wrapping an arm around her waist and dropping a kiss to the top of her head. “Very.”

Thea gave a satisfied nod. “Good enough for me. Ok, here, take a taste. Tell me what it needs.”

Ven groaned but accepted the spoon. “Thea, I’m terrible at this game, you know that.”

“Don’t worry,” Thea laughed. “This is an easy one.”

Ven let the sauce settle on her tongue; tried to identify the different spices and seasonings Thea had blended seamlessly into the whole. It was nearly perfect…

“Hot sauce. Three dashes.”

Thea smiled.

“Perfect.”


	21. Framed

“I think I’m just going to chop it off.”

“It’s your hair,” Ven conceded, brushing a silvery lock away from Fenris’s eyes, fingers lingering over his cheekbones and brushing lightly over his lips as he pressed a kiss against them. “But if you’re looking for a second opinion, I wish you wouldn’t. I like it this length. It frames your eyes and your cheekbones nicely and besides, right now it is the perfect length,” she tangled her fingers in the hair where it covered the nape of his neck, pulling his head closer to her, “to do this.”

Fenris grumbled something unintelligible against her skin, nipping lightly at the base of her neck. She let her head fall back against the pillows, breathing a soft sigh of contentment and simply losing herself in the way his lips felt against her body. Fenris had always had a remarkable gift for touch; for knowing exactly how and where and when to apply it. Ironic, perhaps, given how difficult it was for him to allow anyone to touch him after everything that had happened. After everything he had been through. Even Thea and Cat, who he liked better than most, usually greeted him with a nod or a smile rather than a hug, being mindful and respectful of his boundaries.

Ven, however, was given a fair amount of leeway. In fact, she was fairly certain she was one of the few people Fenris would allow to touch him freely, and she valued that trust and freedom more than she could really explain, especially because it meant she could at least try and return the favors he did for her. It had been a long time since they had been together, and even longer since it had just been the two of them. She had been nervous at first; an unfamiliar feeling for her, but of course he had quickly put any trepidation she might have felt to rest. They were good together, damned good, and he seemed to be more than willing to remind her of that fact.

She raked her nails lightly along his spine, just enough to tease, and he took the hint. His own hand moved back down between her thighs, and Ven suddenly lost all track of what they had been discussing. Damn, but she had forgotten how very talented he was when it came to this. When it came to _her_.

“I suppose,” he spoke softly against her ear, ignoring the rock of her hips and the strained whimpers in her throat, continuing to move his fingers at his own unhurried pace, “That if you like it, I will just get it trimmed. Leave the length more or less where it is at the moment.”

“You’re too good to me, Fenris,” she laughed softly, leaning up to brush her lips against his and, to her surprise, he leaned into the gesture. Despite the heat between them, there was something gentle, almost tender there.

_What in the world is there?_


	22. Candy

“This is ridiculous.”

“You said I could do it.”

“I didn’t think you actually would follow through,” Isabela laughed, trying not to jostle the tidy column of m&ms Ravenna had placed in a precise line down her naked body, from her neck all the way down to a green one placed precisely at the juncture of her thighs. Ven suspected Bela was particularly looking forward to _that_ one.

Ven pressed a feather light kiss to the tip of Bela’s nose, then leaned down and brushed her lips against her ear. “Tell me to stop, Bela. Tell me to stop, and you know I will in a heartbeat.” Despite the teasing in her tone, she knew Bela would know she meant it. They may have been less inhibited than most, but they still respected each other.

“Oh don’t you dare.” Bela carefully raised a hand to direct Ven’s lips back to hers, biting gently on the lower one as they kissed. “Venna,” she whispered, “I promise, if anything ever does not feel right, you will be the first to know. Always. But it’s just candy, and you damn well I’ve gotten sticky in way more outrageous ways. Void, I can think of six just in the last week.”

“Touché,” Ven replied with a breathless laugh before she returned her attention to the bright spots of color against Bela’s skin. “Maybe we can explore some of those next time. You can make me a list. Of course, if you do, I will expect illustrations to go with it.” She carefully picked the first m&m up from her neck with her teeth, letting the chocolate and sugar melt in her mouth, taking her time before moving on to the next as her hands traced the lines of Bela’s curves. She savored each one, sinking into the taste of the candy and Bela’s body, simply enjoying the moment. Living in the moment.

Bela would never be permanent. Neither one of them wanted this to be. It was something fun they enjoyed when distance and time permitted, and Ven cared deeply about Bela. She would even say they loved each other, in a way, but not in the conventional sense. They were friends, first, and lovers second. Isabela would never try to put Ven in a cage anymore than Ven would ever try to pin down Isabela. They were exactly what they needed each other to be. And maybe someday that would change, but for now, it was beautiful, and it felt right.

“You’re amazing, you know that?”

Ven looked up through lowered lashes as she delicately collected the final chocolate on her tongue, drawing it into her mouth slowly before curving her lips up in a small smile. “What makes you say that?”

Bela looked down at her, a gorgeous smile of her own tilting at the corners of her lips. “You’ve always had an adventurous streak. I like that about you. Now,” she playfully pressed Ven’s head back down.

“Want to show me just how amazing you can be?”


	23. Favorite

There was so much green in the world, wasn’t there?

It was beautiful. She loved her city; loved the towering skyscrapers and the lights and the people. She loved the cool, sleek, modern lines of her high rise apartment, and being able to sit on her balcony with a drink and just gaze out over the city, sometimes by herself, sometimes with a friend, sometimes even with a lover. There was a pulse to the metropolitan center that thrummed in time with her own; that called her back and cradled her jaded sensibilities in its arms while maintaining a cold indifference she respected, even valued.

But every so often, even Ravenna liked to come back to nature. To reconnect with the little girl who had run around feral in the fields around Lothering, fording streams she dreamed were rivers and scaling trees so high she would swear she could see all the way to the distant city she dreamed of someday running away to.

She was damn spoiled, too: she could always run away to Cat or Thea’s house if she needed a breath of real, clean air. It wasn’t even that much of a drive; twenty minutes from her downtown apartment. And today, she needed the forest. She needed the sea. She needed the quiet that came from the voices of the woods and the waves, and to watch wispy wraiths of cloud race across the vast expanse of searing blue that arced over the sea.

She lay there, sprawled out on a blanket in Thea’s backyard. The lawn sloped down from the house to the beach, and on either side there were the woods, with all their beautiful, silent secrets. The Mac Tirs weren’t home; they were in Gwaren this week, but Thea had told her she was more than welcome to drive out to their property and recharge, if she were so inclined. Ven was grateful: she loved Thea and Loghain, and she enjoyed spending time with them, but she was also utterly thankful for the chance to be alone for a bit. Which, she suspected, Thea was well aware of.

Because had she given herself enough time to just be alone? Maybe Cataline was right. Maybe Ven hadn’t given herself enough room to re-adjust to before jumping into bed with Isabela and Fenris and Zev. But she didn’t feel like any of this was wrong? She was happy. Really happy. And it had just been so long since she had been in touch with how she was really feeling that the sensation of contentment felt almost foreign.

Ven pulled her phone out of the pocket. It was on Do Not Disturb mode, but she accessed her music app and set it to her favorite playlist before setting it aside and leaning back against the blanket, closing her eyes and letting the warmth of the sun and the playful breezes coming off the ocean caress her face. The music seemed to blend effortlessly with the softer sounds around her, creating a perfect pillow into which to sink her mind.

Yeah. She was pretty damn happy.


	24. Orange

“This. Isn’t. Funny.”

“I agree,” Ven nodded slowly, keeping a hand over her mouth and doing her honest best to try and somber her expression even as her eyes were watering with barely suppressed laughter. “It definitely isn’t funny for you.”

“I cannot go to the office like this!” Aveline gestured frantically to her normally pale face which, at the moment, was a brilliant shade of orange that was reminiscent of overcooked carrots. “I had a hard enough time earning even a modicum of respect from the men in that precinct, and if they see me looking like this…”

Ven did feel a swell of pity for her Aveline then, and she stood up and placed a comforting arm around her friend’s shoulders. “What exactly did Merrill give you? Maybe she has something that can take it off, or counteract whatever did,” she gestured vaguely at Aveline’s face, “This. Have you talked to her yet?” She asked, steering Aveline towards a chair and away from the mirror. Probably for the best to get her away from her own reflection for a bit, or at least until she had calmed down and no longer seemed quite so manic.

“Itwrntmrl.”

“What?” Ven frowned, trying to decipher what the other woman had said. “Aveline, you’re mumbling. I can’t understand a word you’re saying.”

Aveline sighed, and when she looked up to face Ven there was an undercurrent of brilliant scarlet in her cheeks beneath the orange. “It wasn’t Merrill. It was me. I did this to myself. You know Donnic and I are supposed to be going on holiday next month for our anniversary? I was hoping to get some color in my skin before then, but tanning is so dangerous, especially for people with sensitive skin like mine that tends to crisp if I even set one foot outside. So I did what I thought would be the sensible thing and bought some of that self-tanning lotion at the drugstore.”

“Oh Ave, you poor thing.” Ven gave her an uncharacteristically sympathetic smile. “But, the good news is, this stuff isn’t permanent.”

“No, but it also doesn’t just wash off. Trust me, I’ve been trying for the past six hours to scrub it off, and every soap I own and some I borrowed from Isabela. Nothing has worked even a little bit,” Aveline said, a trace of panic in her voice. “I look like an idiot.”

Ven tried to think of something encouraging to say, but was coming up completely blank. There was only one thing she knew might help, despite the reservations she knew Aveline would have at the suggestion. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and scrolled to her contacts list. “Well… we do know one person who just might be able to help…”

“Oh no. No.” Aveline shook her head vigorously. “Hawke, we call her in, I’m just as likely to end up green. Or purple.”

“And that would be worse… how?”

Aveline sighed. “Oh, fine.”

“Call Merrill.”


	25. Book

“It took a few tries, but Merrill actually did have something in her bag of tricks that got Aveline’s skin back to normal, and just in time for her to leave on her trip with Donnic,” Ven informed Thea. “If she weren’t so brilliant at her academic research and so enthusiastic about her studies, I would encourage Merrill to go into skincare full time. Mishaps aside, she really does seem to have a knack for it. I sincerely doubt anyone else would have been able to get that maker-awful tanning stuff off of her skin.”

Thea chuckled quietly, reaching up and pulling another book from one of the many shelves lining her home library and handing it to Ven. “She’s a sweet woman, that one. I envy her optimistic outlook on life.” Ven bit back a grin at that. Thea was one of her favorite people on the planet, but no one would ever accuse her of being an optimist. In fact, she was the one you went to when you needed to know every possible outcome of a scenario, including every possible way it could go wrong. “Here, you want this one too?” She pulled a dog-eared copy of Varric’s first printing of _Hard in Hightown_. “It’s a bit worn, but I think we have at least three copies between the two houses now. Besides, Varric will be heartbroken if he finds out you don’t have a copy of his magnum opus.”

“Seriously?” Ven accepted the tome with a quiet laugh, adding it to the stack of others Thea was giving her. She’d never been much of a reader before, but somehow her apartment felt like it needed books. _She_ needed books. “In that case, I am doubly grateful you are willing to part with a copy, lest I break Varric’s fragile heart. So, what, you kept thinking you lost copies like you lose bottles of molasses, then buying more?”

“Nope.” Thea shot her another half-smile. “Well, not exactly. I had two copies because I was constantly lending out one, and often as not I never got it back. Not surprising, exactly: it is a great read. Then Loghain had a copy when I married him, which made three total.”

“You’re joking.” Ven really did laugh then. Somehow, as much as she adored him, she had a hard time picturing the serious and ever-practical Loghain Mac Tir indulging in a pulp detective novel. “Your husband had a copy of _Hard in Hightown_?”

“Is it that hard to believe I read?”

Thea and Ven turned to face Loghain, who was leaning against the doorframe leading into the library with an ever so slightly amused expression on his face.

“Not at all,” Ven reassured him, though she knew he was not truly offended. “Aside from my darling cousin here, you are possibly the best read person I know,” Ven shrugged. “I just never thought Varric’s work would be… well…”

Loghain shook his head with a small smile.

“We all need our escapes, Ven.”


	26. Colorful

“So? What do you think?”

Merrill twirled around, the diaphanous layers of chiffon floating upward as she did and catching the soft rays of sunlight filtering in through the windows of her apartment. The skirt was a prism of colors, all cut and arranged to mimic flower petals and framed by a pair of silk green panels mimicking leaves. It was almost as if Merrill had managed to take the plants and flowers that filled her home and translate them into an article of clothing. It had taken her months to make it, and even longer to convince herself to try such an ambitious project. But that was just the way Merrill was: once she set her mind to do something, she was going to do it. And she was going to succeed.

“It looks great, Merr. Super colorful,” Ven assured her, knowing it was what her friend wanted to hear. And really, Ven was impressed. Maker only knew she would have never been able to create something like what Merrill had. Her mother had once tried to convince her to take up needlework, and Ven had made it a whole fifteen minutes before announcing she would sooner gouge her own eyes out with the needle. Patience was not her strong suit. “So what are you going to wear it for?”

Her friend tilted her head, confusion in her bright emerald eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Well, what occasion? Is there a party coming up, or some sort of event, or…?

Merrill giggled, her face lighting up in the sweet smile she was known for. “Why would I need an occasion? I was going to wear it to class tomorrow. Or maybe to the park on Saturday. I like it, and I want to wear it.”

Ven gave a small laugh. “Fair point,” she conceded, “It’s just… it seems so fragile, and you put so much work into it. Aren’t you worried about something happening to it? It really is beautiful, and I would hate to see all your hard work and time and effort go to waste if anything happened to it.”

“It is a skirt,” Merrill shrugged. “It’s meant to be worn. And enjoyed. It makes me happy, and I’d like to think it will make other people happy too, when they see it. If I keep it in the closet it will be safe, but then no one will get any joy from it, including me. And besides, now that I know I can do it, I can always make another one.”

Ven smiled. “You know what Merrill? You are absolutely right.” She stood up and wrapped the other woman in a warm hug, a rare show of affection that she knew Merrill would appreciate.

“It does make me happy.”


	27. Memory

_“I always hated that painting.”_

_Carver gave a dry chuckle. “Yeah. I know you did. But it was dad’s favorite. No matter how many times we had to move, somehow that painting always followed us.” He paused, then looked at her. “Mom wanted to throw it out. She hated it, too.”_

_It hadn’t been meant as a barb. She knew that, deep down. Still stung like one, though. And it must have shown on her face, despite her best efforts because Carver sighed, then reached out and gave her a gentle nudge on the arm._

_“C’mon, Ven. I didn’t mean it like that. You’re the only other one who gets it, ya know? Anyone else, I just can’t talk about. I’m supposed to just shove it all down and pretend we’re one big happy family. Never mind there is a big fucking dad-shaped hole.”_

_“Yeah, Carver, I know.” She managed a small smile. He was right: they understood each other in a way no one else would ever understand them, and it was important to her to hold onto that bond even as the paths of their lives diverged. “I’m glad you rescued it. Besides,” she gently elbowed him in the ribs, “it adds a little bit of class to this dump.”_

_He gave a small snort. “Still better than living in that gothic nightmare mom inherited. Besides,” he looked around the apartment, “At least it’s a place to call my own. A space for me. I’ve finally got a place to call my own, and that I can decorate any damn way I please.”_

_“Yeah,” Ven acknowledged, reaching out and taking her brother’s hand and giving it a brief squeeze._

_“I guess we all need a little space.”_

She still hated that painting. Still thought it was ugly as sin. No, she corrected herself with an internal sigh, not ugly: just so boring. A pastoral Fereldan landscape, with pristine mountains in the background and wooly puffs of sheep dotting the emerald green fields. Simple trees were congregated off to the side, all perfectly straight and even, as though the artist had never seen a real forest. It was all too perfect; too staged. It was a lie. And maybe that was why she had always hated it: it was too much a reminder of the way she had grown up. Always presenting an image of the ‘perfect’ family, even though it was all just a farce. No matter how much her mother would have liked to pretend otherwise.

Ven hadn’t had the heart to hang it back up in the house Carver hated so much; the house that had never felt like home to either of them. So she’d brought it to The Hanged Man. Varric hadn’t even blinked an eye when she hung it up behind the bar, right over the cash register where she would see if every single day she worked. Its presence perplexed some customers, but most of them took it in stride. Yes, she hated that painting.

But she’d loved them.


	28. Mirror

With the type of quick handed precision that came with years of practice, Ravenna painted her lips with the signature crimson red she had been using since the day she moved out of her family home. When she used it straight out of the tube she didn’t even need the mirror anymore, but when using the brush she liked to get the lines a little cleaner; really emphasize the curves and dip. She never wore much make-up, usually just the lip color and a swipe of mascara, but she’d never really felt like she’d needed it either. After all, make-up never lasted long once the fun part of the evening started, and she had no doubt that was exactly the direction this particular evening was going to take.

On the bed, Isabela was still pulling her jeans back on. No small task, given how tight the damn things were, but Ven sure as the void wasn’t complaining, nor was she making any effort to hide the fact she was watching intently from the mirror. Bela caught her looking at her in the reflection and shot her a grin. She stood up and sauntered over, still only half dressed, and wrapped her arms around Ven’s waist, resting her head against her back. “We heading over to The Hanged Man?” She asked, punctuating the question with a row of kisses across Ven’s shoulders.

“I was thinking we could go out to that cocktail place Thea likes so much… the one where Loghain takes her dancing that they pretend we don’t know about. I already spend enough time at work.”

Bela laughed, placing one more kiss to Ven’s neck. “Sounds fun, but you’ll have to get me very, _very_ drunk before I do any dancing.” Then she stepped away, and her face grew slightly more serious. “Ven… I need to tell you… We’re going to be back in Rivain in a couple weeks. I have a contract there, should be a few months. And you know Zev can find work anywhere, so he is planning on coming with. He wilts in the Fereldan winters, you know.”

Ven turned to face her, holding out her hand and pulling Bela into her arms when she accepted the gesture. She planted a firm kiss on her lips, lingering there for a long time and leaving a slight shadow of red in her wake that she knew would amuse Bela more than anything. “I’m sure gonna miss you Bela. These past few months have been fun. A lot of fun. But I always knew you would be moving on eventually. And it’s not like you won’t find your back here.”

“All true,” she nodded, her expression unusually thoughtful. “You could come with us,” Isabela offered. “You know I always have an extra bunk for you, and you’re talented enough you can find work wherever we go. But…” She hesitated, then a mischievous smile on her lips and a spark lit up her eyes.

“Somehow, I think you’re going to want to stay.”


	29. Silhouette

“What in the void were you thinking?”

Fenris winced slightly as Ravenna pressed the cold compress to the spot over his eye where the other guy had gotten in a lucky punch. It hadn’t exactly been a fair fight: Fenris had taken him out in a few well-placed strikes, long years of training kicking in and ending the confrontation almost as soon as it had begun. Still, it had been close quarters in the Hanged Man, and Fenris at least had been sober enough to try and minimize collateral damage to the other patrons. Unfortunately, that consideration had resulted in a sloppy fist to his face. Now, there was only the darkening silhouette of untrained knuckles to show for it.

“He was harassing you, Ravenna. I was not going to just sit there and allow it to happen.”

Ven rolled her eyes, but her hands were gentle as she tended to his injury. “First of all, Fenris,” she spoke quietly, “you are not the sole vanguard of my honor. I didn’t put up with that nonsense from my brother, and I won’t put up with it from you. Second, that kind of shit happens. I work at a bar, behind the bar. I’m used to it. Really? I’ve dealt with worse. You should see some of the dregs that show up during pledge week at Denerim University. Third,” her tone took on a teasing lilt, and she pressed a feather-light kiss to the bruise, “some drunk jackass is not worth marring that pretty face of yours.”

Suddenly, Fenris caught her wrist gently in his hand as she moved the cold compress away. Their eyes met and, in that heartbeat, everything seemed to stand still. He pulled her closer, his hand moving oh so slowly from her wrist to her hip. Ven found herself stepping into his touch, still not certain why, and then she was sitting beside him and then they were so close, and then their lips met…

She had kissed Fenris hundreds of times. Thousands, maybe. Honestly, there had been an attraction between them since the day they had met, and it had not taken much convincing on his part for her to slip into bed with him. Even when she had been more or less exclusive with Anders, there had always been a spark between her and Fenris; something that refused to die even as she had done her best to stamp it out. Now, they should have been back to where they had left off, right? Things should feel exactly the way they had before. And yet…

_It feels different… why is it different now?_

They parted, and Ven still found herself breathless; still found herself wrapped in his arms for the simple fact she could not bring herself to move. “Fenris, I-”

“I apologize, Ravenna,” he murmured, his forehead still pressed against hers. “I should not have… I don’t know.”

She swallowed hard, trying to understand this, understand any of this.

“I don’t know either.”


	30. Black

“Pour me something strong, Ven. It’s been a void of a day.”

“I gathered as much,” Ven glanced at Thea as she poured her a shot of her favorite whiskey then, upon further consideration, made it a double. “Since you didn’t even go home to change before coming out.” Her cousin was still wearing the flawlessly tailored black suit she wore whenever she had to intimidate people at work. Ven almost never got to see Thea in her ‘work’ clothes, and she forgot how formidable the younger woman could be. Honestly, sometimes Thea scared _her_ a little bit, and Ven did not scare easily.

Thea pinched the bridge of her nose briefly. “Didn’t have time. I told Loghain I would meet him here at 6:00, and traffic was a nightmare as it was.” She glanced down at her watch with a sigh. “I’m not surprised he’s running late.”

Ven leaned up against the bar. “Eh. At least you still look fantastic.” Thea shot her a strained smile. “You wanna talk about it?”

“Nothing _too_ egregious,” Thea replied with a resigned shrug before taking a sip of her drink. “Just trying to close a deal with Starkhaven before I leave for Gwaren on Saturday, and they are of course dragging their feet. I don’t suppose you could put some pressure on Sebastian?”

“Not a chance.” Ven gave a derisive snort. “I haven’t spoken to him since he basically broke Beth’s heart. Gave her some line about how ‘it can never be’ and he has to ‘consider the future of Starkhaven.’ Coincidentally, if you happen to know any great, single guys…”

“Oh well now I’m _definitely_ not budging on those import taxes,” Thea growled. “Should have guessed, though. He’s still trying to pursue Margot, having finally given up on me. Guess the wedding ring on my finger finally got the point across. In any case,” she took another sip, “I already owe you in a big way.”

Ven raised an inquisitive brow, for once at an absolute loss as to what Thea was talking about. “Oh? For what?”

“I don’t know what you said to him, but Fenris has _finally_ accepted the job offer I’ve been making to him for the past two and a half years.”

“Job offer?”

Thea studied her for a moment, as though trying to decide if Ven was feigning ignorance. Apparently deciding she wasn’t, she continued. “He didn’t tell you? I’ve been trying to get him to come on as our full time tech administrator ever since Cat and I took over the company. He kept saying the timing wasn’t right, but this morning he came into my office and asked if the offer was still on the table. I had that contract signed faster than you can blink.”

“As much as I would love to take credit, Thea,” Ven replied slowly, her thoughts running a million miles an hour, “I don’t know that I had anything to do with it.”

“I have no idea what made him change his mind.”


	31. Dream

“You want to tell me why I had to find out from Thea that you were going to work for her?”

Fenris turned around in his desk chair to face her, setting aside his glasses and briefly rubbing his eyes. “Because I only made the decision today, I was not certain the job would still be available, and I was not sure how you would respond. Take your pick.”

Ven shook her head slowly, trying to organize her thoughts even though she had spent the entire drive over doing exactly that. “I didn’t realize… I didn’t even know you were thinking about staying. I assumed you would be going back to Rivain with Bela and Zev. Why the change of heart?”

“Do you not want me to stay?”

“Of course I want you to, you ass.” Ven threw up her hands in exasperation. “I just… I’m trying to figure this out.”

“I apologize, Ravenna,” he sighed softly. “I should have told you. I suppose I was afraid you would try to talk me out of it.”

“Why?” Ven demanded, resisting the urge to stamp her foot like a child. “Why would I try to talk you out of it? You’re an adult, and this is your life.”

“I should think that would be obvious.”

They stared at each other for a long moment, neither saying a word, simply reading each other’s gaze. Finally, the frown on Ven’s face smoothed into something calmer.

_I finally understand. Maker take me… I finally understand._

“I’m not going to stop sleeping with Bela when she comes into town,” she said, her tone even as she took another step into his office.

He nodded. “Neither am I.”

“And I will probably sleep with other women, too,” Ven warned, but she took a step closer. “And possibly men. Zevran is hard to quit, you know.”

“I assumed as much.”

She took another step, and Fenris wound his arms around her hips, pressing a kiss to her stomach as her hands settled against his shoulders. “Fenris…” she exhaled slowly, then spoke the words she needed to say. “I don’t think I’m ever going to be the type of woman to settle down. I never want kids. I doubt I’ll ever want to get married, though I guess never say never. I am going to stay out too late, drink, occasionally get high as a kite, get into trouble, go on random adventures just because I feel like it, make questionable food choices late at night, and otherwise be a bad influence. I like you, a lot, and I could see this being…something… but I cannot give up that freedom. Not again.”

“And I would never dream of asking you to,” he replied evenly. “But if you are not opposed… I would not mind sharing it with you, when and if you are so inclined.”

Ven smiled, then tilted his chin up so that he was facing her before she leaned down and pressed her lips to his.

“Consider me inclined.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so, so infinitely much for the kudos and comments on this little side trip we took with Ravenna and Co. It truly means the world to me. <3


End file.
